


i have to go

by skai_heda



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Not book compliant, Post 3x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skai_heda/pseuds/skai_heda
Summary: Gilbert thinks that she can hear his heartbeat from where she stands; how could she not? It pounds in his ears, shrinking the world down to the space between their faces, the words she never received.He reaches out to touch the curve of her jaw, and he thinks he feels her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips. And accompanying the persistent beat of his heart, there's Anne, Anne, Anne.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 522





	i have to go

It's fate that carries him there, the sound of his pounding footsteps still echoing in his ears. Anne, his Anne, stands before him, her red curls tumbling rather perfectly around her face.

Gilbert thinks that she can hear his heartbeat from where she stands; how could she not? It pounds in his ears, shrinking the world down to the space between their faces, the words she never received.

He reaches out to touch the curve of her jaw, and he thinks he feels her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips. And accompanying the persistent beat of his heart, there's _Anne, Anne, Anne._

_Anne._

For years he's suffered silently, craving her touch, her smile, her company. Anne, his friend, his love, the only woman in the world that would ever take his heart with no intention of returning it. Suffering, waiting, thinking about her.

Which is why he doesn't wait as he surges forward to capture her lips with his own.

* * *

It's not quite exactly what he was expecting. He can feel Anne's nose against his cheekbone and her fingers trembling against the lapels of his jacket, but his primary sensation and realization is the feeling of her kissing him back. He hopes he's not pressing his hand into her face too hard, hoping that he's not making a complete fool out of himself. But judging by the way her lips curl just so beneath his, it's okay. Everything is okay.

His love, his dream, his Anne.

When he finally pulls away, her head tilts forward just so as if she's trying to kiss him again, but then she's halted by the blooming of a small smile on her face. Anne's breath escapes in a sharp exhale, which turns into a small yelp. He looks down at her hand, which is wrapped around her other wrist as if she just pinched herself.

"I just had to check," she says, sounding mildly flustered. "I have a very good imagination so... I just had to be sure that _this..._ is real."

Gilbert feels it too; kissing Anne had been like a glorious dream, and some part of him is waiting to wake up on a train to Charlottetown. 

"Anne," he murmurs. "I have to know. Do you truly have feelings for me?"

And then there's that moment of hesitation, because what if Diana was lying, what if this was not a dream but a horrible reality, a reality in which Anne did not love him?

His heart still pounds in his ears, and it's a wonder that he isn't trembling from head to foot. And despite the improperness of the thought, he also just wants to kiss her again, and again, to make up for all the lost time and all the lost words.

She leans forward to kiss him again as an answer, and something within him snaps as he angles his head to kiss her better, the passion of it pushing her head back slightly. There's a sharp, aching joy that shatters everything within him, that reduces him to fluttering in his gut as Anne's mouth moves against his, the bright, beautiful love he has always had for her. 

_Anne._

_Anne._

_Anne._

_My Anne with an E._

He lowers his arms to wrap them around her waist and pull her even close enough to make her have to stand on her toes, because every centimeter of space between them is a loss, a sting in his heart. He holds her tightly, and he knows it won't hurt her because it's _Anne._

Anne could walk through a storm and still emerge as beautiful woman, down to the core of her being. His brave, beautiful Anne. 

_I love you,_ he says with his kiss. _I love you more than anything in this world._

Distantly, he hears bells ringing.

Gilbert pulls away from her, looking towards the distance. "Twelve," he breathes. "I have to go."

Why on earth couldn't the timing ever be right for him?

"But... but you just got here, where are you going?" Anne asks him, the ghost of a smile still hovering around her lips.

"Toronto," he responds, and he can't help but answer with a touch of pride. "U of T. I still have a long way to go and it's imperative I arrive _today."_

"Alright then," she says. "So, uh, goodbye?" Her smile lessens a bit at that word, but it's not true.

He could never say goodbye to her.

He clasps her hands and presses a kiss to her fingers, before raising his head to smile at her. "Pen pals?"

Anne laughs then, the sound akin to a sweet symphony. "Likely you'll recall, I happen to have a _very_ nice fountain pen."

This pulls a laugh out of Gilbert too, despite the rising anguish of having to leave her again.

* * *

He casts a final glance at her, smiling next to Diana, who looks a little too smug for his liking.

 _Damn these physical urges,_ he thinks as he leaps out of the carriage and walks over to Anne to kiss her once, then twice. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Diana's mouth half-open. _How's that for smitten, Ms. Barry?_

Anne grins brightly at him, and it takes all of Gilbert's willpower to not kiss her again He's only done it a few times, but now it seems easier and better than breathing to him now. "I'll write to you," the two of them say at the same time, and they laugh.

"I have follow-up questions," Anne tells him, still smiling.

"So do I," he says. Quite unsure of what to do with his hands now, he gets back onto the carriage.

With a few waves, he's gone.

* * *

**a few months later**

* * *

"Lord, Blythe. Wipe that smirk off your face," Bash mutters, turning Delphine away before she can make a grab for the pine needles on the tree.

"Guess who's coming today?" Gilbert says, tickling Delphine's foot.

 _"I_ wouldn't know," Bash mutters. "It's not like you haven't told me at least a hundred times a day—"

There's a knock on the door, and Gilbert nearly falls on his face when he runs to answer it. Behind him, he can hear Bash's hearty guffaw.

"Marilla, Matthew... Anne," he says, greeting all that enter. She smirks a little at him, and he feels his face getting rather hot. Her hair has turned a pleasant shade of auburn in the months that they've been apart, but there are still noticeable traces of her bright red locks.

"Hi," he says shyly. Good god, he's such a buffoon.

"Hello," she responds before hugging him tightly. His body melts against hers, into the familiarity of his best friend and his love. "I've missed you quite a lot."

"We wrote to each other almost every other day," Gilbert responds with a small laugh.

"Which, I believe, is not the same as seeing your face, Gil," Anne says with a grin.

"Apologies, Anne," he mumbles, pulling her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. "I should have enclosed a sketch of my face with each letter."

"Well, you're here now," she whispers, staring at her fingers in wonder.

* * *

"So, how's the university?" Anne asks him, her arm looped around his as they walk on the paths bordered by snow. "You always wrote about the classes but never about the actual place itself."

"Well, it's, um, big."

A rather unladylike snort escapes Anne, and he thinks he's falling in love all over again. "How eloquent of you, Gil."

"You have no idea how truly eloquent I am," he says, recalling his letter to her. "I could create a poem right here, if you wanted me to."

Anne chuckles. "Fine, then. Go on."

He freezes and turns to look at her, mildly mortified.

"I've got all day, Mr. Blythe," she says.

"Your hair is very red," he starts. "I would prefer no other color in its stead."

Her lips come together in a thin line as she tries to suppress her laughter, but the effort quickly becomes futile as she collapses against him in a fit of chuckles that he soon joins in on.

 _Yes,_ he thinks. _This is perfect._

* * *

They find themselves blowing out all the candles on the tree again. Marilla, Matthew, and Bash are laughing and talking in another room, and Anne and Gilbert are alone.

Just as the last time, there's only one candle left to blow out between the two of them."

"Well, this is, er, familiar," Anne mumbles, her cheeks turning a pleasant pink.

"You looked beautiful that day," he says. "I never had the chance to tell you."

"Oh, don't be silly," she mutters. "The monstrosity that was my hair—"

"Didn't matter to me one bit," Gilbert assures her, lowering his head to blow out the candle. "You're beautiful no matter what, Anne. Always have been."

"Even with the hair—"

He laughs softly and leans forward to kiss her, harder than he's kissed her before, but it doesn't particularly matter to him right now. Anne responds with just as much enthusiasm, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging slightly.

"You're not disgusted, are you?" she asks in between his kisses.

"Why would I be?"

"It's all rather—improper," she admits. "You've just really begun courting me—"

"I assure you, I've been worried about the same thing," he tells her, kissing her cheek, and, in a bold move, the line of her jaw. _Gilbert Blythe, you better stop now._

"I don't mind," she says, giving his own jaw a gentle push to bring his mouth back to hers.

"Then I don't either," Gilbert responds, softening his kisses slightly. "As long as it's you."

"It always will be, Gil," she tells him, leaning up to kiss the space between his eyebrows. "Always."


End file.
